


Rewrite The Stars

by thefraserwitch



Series: Always & Forever [1]
Category: One Tree Hill, Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, High School AU, Outlander/One Tree Hill Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 17:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21080279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefraserwitch/pseuds/thefraserwitch
Summary: Jamie & Claire spend some time at Jamie's grandfather's cabin discussing the stars and what they mean to one another. Part of the Always & Forever Series - my Outlander/One Tree Hill crossover.





	Rewrite The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack for this fic includes Style by Taylor Swift and Rewrite The Stars from The Greatest Showman

_Midnight _

Pebbles skip across the panes of my bedroom window, cracking like a whip, loud and sharp. Once… then two more times… then once more. The steady staccato of their barrage beats against glass, matching his persistence, his stubbornness. He knows he could just text me - which would be far more discreet than pegging my house with tiny rocks - but he prefers the old-fashioned gesture, says it reminds him of simpler times and grand declarations made with boomboxes raised above one’s head. He doesn’t worry about waking anyone with his racket because he knows I’m alone. Uncle Lamb is gone once again on some fantastical adventure in search of ancient artifacts, and the rest of the street slumbers, blissfully unaware of any impending mischief.

He lobs another pebble, which ricochets off of a shutter and skitters across the roof line below my window. Beneath the waves of bed linen, I roll onto my hip and flip on my bedside lamp, a shining beacon calling out to my lover below…

_He’s not **actually** yours. _

I chide myself, hissing at the pain that not only blossoms in my chest from my own cruel reality check but also from my big toe, which finds the corner of a forgotten textbook. I’m a tangle of limbs, all sharp edges and knobby knees. I shimmy into a pair of jeans and slip on my Keds in a completely uncoordinated ballet. A blush creeps up my neck when I realize that he can see the shadows of my not-at-all graceful extremities behind my closed window curtains. With no time for make-up, I bite my lip in hopes it stains the flesh just red enough to give the illusion of lipstick.

My heart hammers against my ribs, and I inhale deeply in a feeble attempt to calm my rattled nerves. I’m shaken to my core before I even step outside. My eyelids slide close as I swallow against the hard lump of self-doubt at the back of my throat.

_Buck up, Beauchamp. _

With my chin held high, I dramatically toss back the drapes and flick open the locks. The heels of my hands press into the wooden ledge. Whispered curses pepper my tongue when a stray splinter catches the fleshy bit of my palm, but I carry on in spite of the pain. I duck through the narrow opening and push the window sash back into place, all while balancing precariously on my tiptoes. Half sitting, half crouching, I crab-walk down the angled porch roof. When I reach the end, I slide onto my belly and catch the column below with my legs before scampering down the taper with the agile reflexes of a cat. Swaying slightly as I steady myself against the porch railing, I find my footing in the grass below until a low chuckle catches me off guard.

“I didna ken ye were part wee cheetie, Sassenach.”

I swivel quickly on one heel, and the world continues to spin around me even though I’ve stopped moving.

** _Jamie. _ **

He’s waiting for me, leaning against his black Ford Mustang with his arms folded across his chest and his cock-sure confidence tucked behind his stupid (yet horribly attractive) smirk. His windswept curls are nearly black at night, but the streetlights tinge the tips rose gold, framing his in an angelic halo like some deity (_though he’s definitely more devil than god at times_). Not one for high fashion, he’s dressed simply in his signature trainers, jeans, and a white T-shirt… the sleeves of which capped the bugle of his bicep just perfectly.

_Damn him. _

A breeze filters in and lifts the stray curls from my neck, but I still feel warm.

“Hi,” I say weakly. My chin is tucked downward as I watch my own toes scuff the earth, but I peek through my eyelashes, hoping to catch Jamie’s eye. My pulse thunders to life when I realize he hasn’t taken his eyes off of me. Not once.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I think I might faint.

“I didn’t see Lamb’s car…” he asks as he pushes himself off of his car.

“You wouldn’t,” I interrupt, taking three steps forward before I stop myself from seeming to eager. “He’s not here. Arizona.”

He glances up at my bedroom window and then back at me, his brow furrowing while his question takes form. “But _you...” _

Pride floods my body, warming me to the tips of my fingers. A small giggle bubbles from my lips as I trot towards him, shaking my head in slight disbelief that I’d actually pulled one over on him. When we meet in the middle of the brick path in front of my house, we pause - a little awkward and mostly unsure of ourselves and the newness of whatever _this_ is exactly. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the fingers of his left hand twitch, fluttering against his thigh. I press my hands to his chest and silence his nerves with a small peck on his cheek before I whisper in his ear.

“Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, Fraser.”

~*~

We speed off into the night with only the moon and the stars to light our way. Hurtling down back roads in Jamie’s convertible reminds me of a roller coaster as we peel around hairpin curves and crest mountainous hills before flying down the incline. The radio plays music softly in the background, low enough for us to easily converse over the dulcet melodies but neither one of us speaks. We ride along in silence, with Jamie’s hand resting on the seat mere inches from mine. When he taps his fingers along to the beat, his pinky occasionally brushes mine, and each time, my belly clenches before melting into molten silver.

“Where to?” He asks, breaking through the quietness but keeping his eyes trained on the road in front of him.

His words reach my ears and my brain stutters to start and then suddenly launches ahead like a speeding train. I hadn’t thought about where’d we go. Jamie always randomly picked a place for us to meet - the River Court, Moira’s Cafe after my shift, or one of our houses depending on who’s legal guardian was around (a phrase in which we found both humor and sympathy). Tonight, I blindly dressed and tossed myself out the window without a single question, let alone as where’d we go.

“Anywhere…” I sigh as I shrug my shoulders. The leather beneath me squeaks loudly, emitting a sound that could dissolve only us into a fit of immature laughter.

“Laoghaire is throwing a party,” Jamie suggests casually.

_Laoghaire MacKenzie. _

The very mention of her name turns my stomach sour. We whip around another turn, and I’m caught off guard. My knuckles turn white from gripping the door handle as I try to swallow back the bile that’s flooded my mouth. Memories flood my vision of the last party I attended with Laoghaire MacKenzie in attendance: special trinkets and secret letters revealed for all to see… Jamie and I further divided by the cruel hierarchy of the high school caste system… my tears masked by a steaming shower later that night while I sobbed from the embarrassment of it all.

I wouldn’t dare be caught in her presence unguarded again.

“Anywhere but _there_,” I request, my voice as sharp as the turn Jamie takes down a hidden, one lane road before I can even finish speaking.

~*~

“What _is_ this place?” I ask as we roll to a stop, half afraid Jamie’s brought me up here to fulfill some psychopathic, horror movie fantasy, half in awe of the beautiful sight before me.

The thick forest gave way to a clearing, jagged branches breaking off to reveal a small, wooden structure and a sky of winking stars overhead. As I slam the heavy metal car door behind me, a breeze rustles the leaves, making me shiver in its cool wake. I know we are somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains from the way the once flat roads rose to startlingly steep hills, but I didn’t have the foresight to grab a jacket. Completely unphased, Jamie jogs ahead of me and takes the steps at the front porch two at a time.

“My grandfather’s,” he explains as he jimmies open the first lock. The screeching of ancient metal tumblers echoes throughout the clearing, disturbing the peaceful night and doing little to sway my mind from more macabre paranoias.

Rubbing warmth into my arms with my palms, I say through chattering teeth, “I didn’t realize you were so close with him that you’d have a key.”

Every shred of confidence I had before is gone, leaving me a shaking and stuttering nervous wreck.

“I doubt he’ll mind…” he grumbles as he negotiates the second lock to open and the heavy, timber door swings open on creaking hinges. “He’s dead.”

_Well, that’s comforting. _

“You know, this is how most scary movies start…” I rock back on my heels as I nervously ramble. “Guy takes girl up to his cabin far from civilization… lulls her into a false sense of security… and _**BAM!** _He turns out to be a serial killer or a werewolf or...something!”

In the moonlight, Jamie’s blue eyes twinkle with mirth as the corners of his mouth tug upwards into a slight smirk.

“No werewolves here, Sassenach,” he promises as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and ushers me inside. “But I might just have to take a bite out of you.”

He tucks his head into the crook of neck and nips at the sensitive flesh there. My half-delighted, half-terrified squeals peal through the night air, and suddenly, I’m not so cold anymore.

~*~

We’re not inside long. Jamie quickly gathers supplies and deposits them into a basket for easy carrying: a thick, plaid blanket, a bottle of whisky, and a flashlight. While he’s preoccupied, I acquaint myself with my surroundings. I take note of the wide, hand-scraped floor boards and the large boulders stacked tall to form the fireplace. The entire space smells faintly of wood smoke from long forgotten fires and greasy lanolin from well loved sweaters. Above the raw timber mantel rests a hand-carved sign, the words Fraser’s Ridge etched into the marker.

As my hand lifts to trace the letters with my fingertips, Jamie materializes beside me and beckons me to join him outside. We walk out into the night with his fingers intertwined with mine.

Fifty yards behind the cabin, the earth suddenly drops into oblivion. I’m sure the views are spectacular in daylight, but tonight the night sky steals the breath from my lungs. The inky shadows of the geography below layer the scenery in varying shades of purple. Wine-stained hills roll down the ravine and eggplant colored silhouettes of tree tops dot the horizon. Above us, the heavens explode with starlight, thousands sparkling crystals spattered across a velvety indigo canvas.

Lost in the beauty of this place, I hardly notice Jamie, who has brought a roaring fire to life with little else but his bare hands and some kindling. The warmth of the flames draws me back from the cliff’s edge as I wander closer to the hearth. Halved-logs surround the fire pit in a circle, the make-shift benches just wide enough for two to share. I sink into the empty space besides Jamie, and he wraps us both in the thick, woolen tartan before offering me a tin cup. In comfortable silence, we casually sip our whisky as we lose ourselves in the glistening nightscape above our heads.

“See that grouping of stars just to the west?” Jamie whispers. His lips graze the outer shell of my ear, and my skin erupts into goosebumps at the sensation. I nestle closer into the crook of his arm as he continues.

The low hum of his voice lulls me into sleepy complacency. His Scottish burr rumbles deep in his chest and vibrates against my ribs like a purring kitten. Despite the chill of the autumn air, warmth tingles throughout my entire body to the very tips of my toes. My head is thick and fuzzy partially from the late hour, but mostly from the nearly empty cup in my lap (_my third helping of whisky_).

Jamie’s voice carries on steadily, never once wavering as he teaches me about the constellations - a twist on our normal tutor/student relationship. With each formation, he explains the mythology behind them. _Canis Major and Canis Minor. Hercules and Hydra. Orion and Scorpius._ Like most Scots, he’s a born storyteller with a gift to color any tale with vivid language and dramatic pauses, and I’m completely captivated. As he speaks of the lovers Perseus and Andromeda, his hand cups my cheek and tilts my face towards his. I blink, my eyelids fluttering open and close as I lean towards him. His lips hover inches from mine, when my brain decides to intervene.

_What **exactly** are you doing, Beauchamp?! _

I press my hands against Jamie’s chest, pushing him away and pressing myself backwards as I mumble “Not so fast, soldier.”

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asks, but I’m untangle my limbs from the blanket and stand up before I can stop to answer him.

Propelled by doubt, my legs stumble over the bench and march back towards the cabin. Fear settles into a lead pit in my stomach. Its icy fingers trace frost-laden trails down my spine, and before long I’m shaking… from the cold… from the bone-weary uneasiness that has never left the back of my mind.

_What on earth does Jamie Fraser - the most popular guy in school - want with **me? **_

“Claire!” He shouts over the crunching of leaves beneath his feet as he chases after me. “Will ye even tell me what I did to offend ye?”

I spin on my heel and charge towards him, ignoring the loose curls that sharply smack against my face.

“What _you_ did?” I scream back. “The rumor mill is churning with all sorts of stories about _you_, Fraser.”

I’m bluffing for the most part. Sure, everyone talks about Jamie Fraser - star point guard and hottest boy in the junior class. Who wouldn’t? But no one is exactly sharing these stories with me. I am now a part of these stories, a starring role at times even. The clumsy nerd Jamie’s taken to his bed. To most, I’m a charity case or the unfortunate consequence of a lost bet. To all, I could never be worthy of the title girlfriend.

Jamie stops and sighs, his head dropping to his chest. He clutches the blanket wrapped around his shoulders a little tighter as he asks, “What have ye heard?”

_What **had** I heard? _

Very little, truth be told. I caught the tale end of a story when I was waiting for Jamie after practice one afternoon. The cheerleaders never thought much of me anyway to consider stopping their mindless chatter as the exited the gym, though I’m certain they meant for me to hear this particular story.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words catch in my throat.

_Do you really want to do this? _

When our tutoring arrangement turned into something more, we allowed our relationship to develop naturally, albeit secretly. We never once agreed on titles or labels; we never even stopped to have the conversation. It crossed my mind plenty of times - when we’d search for a new secret spot to meet or when we passed each other in the halls without nothing more than a quick glance. And yet, each time I stopped myself, my inner cheerleader chastising me for being less than cool. It was easier this way… or so I thought.

“That you’ve been out with some other girl…” I admit quietly, my voice cracking along with my heart as I finally allow myself to feel the bitter sting of betrayal.

Jamie reaches for me, his own voice shaking as he speaks. “It’s no’ what ye think…”

“Oh it isn’t, is it?” I scoff as I shuffle backwards. My heels collide with something solid and rough behind me as my palms find the lip of a concrete ledge.

**“Damn it, Claire, d’ye have to do this all the time?” he demands. **

**“In a word - yes,” I say, sinking exhaustedly onto the rim of an ornamental fountain. **

From my perch, I watch Jamie seethe before me. Tempered rage boils beneath his flushed cheeks, and I imagine steam billowing from his ears. The fingers of his left hand drum a steady tattoo against his thigh as he chews his bottom lip. The tempo matches the beat of my racing heart.

_Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release. _

“Who?” He asks after an eternity passes.

_“Laoghaire.” _

Her name blooms on my tongue like poison, sickeningly sweet before turning to bitter ash. The languid L coats my tongue with a thick, syrupy medicine for my own grand delusions; the long E whistles through my gritted teeth, the melody for my own funeral (cause of death - social suicide). My eyelids narrow and I cross my arms over my chest as I wait - for the lie that will grant me sweet relief even if it’s just for one night… for the truth that will certainly destroy me…

Tracing some invisible path on the ground, Jamie’s gaze darts back and forth, but it doesn’t once meet mine.

_“Oh…”_ I choke back a sob that bubbles at the back of my throat. Pushing myself off to the ledge, I rise to leave - the back door to the cabin in my sites.

“It’s no like that!” He roars. His hand wraps around my wrist and he pulls me back, drawing me close to him. His strong arms clasp me tight to his chest, iron bands holding me firmly in place as I struggle to break free.

“Explain it to me then!” I loudly screech into his face, continuing to fight his embrace. “What’s it like, _hmm?” _

Slowly, Jamie softens. The muscles in his arms relax and his gripping fingers release until his hands are gently palming my hips. The tension in his furrowed brow melts. His shoulders sag, rounding gently inward until his curving around me like the delicate shell of a caterpillar’s cocoon, the tartan blanket protecting us both from the chilly night air.

“What you’ve heard is true,” he whispers, releasing his secret to the universe. “I’ve been out wi’ the lass once or twice but it’s not… _I can’t…” _

His words stutter and stammer until his finally silent, rendered speechless by a myriad of emotions I watch flash across his eyes. In his own face, I see my own fear and doubt mirrored back at me. I hear a small cracking sound from deep within my chest - my own heart breaking for him… for_ us... _

I brush a stray curl from his temple as I ask him, prompting him where he left off. “Can’t _what?” _

Suddenly, he looks up at me - eyes wild and bright.

“I can’t stop thinking about _this.” _

Jamie’s lips are on mine before my subconscious can put up a fight, allowing my heart to fully give in. We are no longer shy or awkward. We are hungry. Dizzy with lust, I steady myself, gripping his shoulders as his tongue laps at my lower lip, begging entrance. Arching into him, I moan against his mouth while my hands palm the muscular planes of his chest. He hooks his thumbs into my belt loops and jerks me forward, our hips colliding in delicious friction. As I press into him once more, our uncoordinated efforts to climb inside the other’s skin knock the tartan loose from our bodies. Jamie shouts at the sudden shock to his system, and I whimper in the cold.

While he gathers the discarded blanket from the ground, I shyly whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about it either… us… I mean.”

Once he’s fully upright, Jamie pauses. He stands before me. He holds the blanket bunched in his palms, and the flesh of his low belly is bare, the hem of his shirt rucked up over his hip. Perfectly disheveled, I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so beautiful in my whole life… and I think I could maybe love this boy. Gently, he wraps the tartan around my shoulders. When he steps towards me, I return the favor and nestle us both beneath the thick wool. He presses a kiss to my forehead as he mumbles into my hair.

“We best get ye inside, Sassenach. Yer shiverin.”

~*~

Daylight catches us by surprise, even though we sleep well past noon. Well, at least I do. When I finally untangle myself from the mountains of bedsheets and stumble my way out into the land of the living, I find Jamie outside once more.

“That looks like a nutritious breakfast,” I comment as I walk towards him, noting the red and blue box of Cracker Jack clutched in his fist.

“S’all I could find,” he mutters between bites.

I sit down next to him, and he tilts the box towards me, sharing his meager meal. We sit quietly munching on the crispy snacks. In the daylight, I can now see the brilliant shades of autumn across the valley below. Deep burgundy, brilliant copper, and shining gold all merge together as one against the forget-me-not blue sky. There’s not a cloud in sight, and the warm sun replaces the bitter chill from the night before.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Jamie as we eat. He’s comfortable up here in the mountains, relaxed and naturally himself - for someone I thought of as a true city boy. He’s at peace as the ruler of his own domain with no one for miles.

This is my Jamie - the _real_ Jamie.

It doesn’t take long to finish our breakfast. A small box of Cracker Jack is no match for two hungry and hung-over teens. Jamie’s fingers dive in once more, reaching for the bottom in search of crumbs. Instead, he unearths a bracelet. It’s clearly meant for a child with its mismatched, brightly colored beads strung along an elastic band. He doesn’t hesitate. He takes my hand and gently threads the bracelet onto my wrist before pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

_“Don’t say I never gave you anything.” _

_Fin._


End file.
